


sinking ship

by wheezykat



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst and Humor, Auror Harry Potter, Breaking the Fourth Wall, Case Fic, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Harry Potter is Bad at Feelings, M/M, Ministry of Magic Employee Draco Malfoy, Potions Master Draco Malfoy, Tumblr Prompt, Tumblr: drarrymicrofic, harry potter discovers fanfiction
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-10
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-16 21:35:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29339157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wheezykat/pseuds/wheezykat
Summary: Harry discovers WixFic by accident, and realizes that people are writing about him online - often placing him in compromising positions. Most unnervingly, they seem to pair him up with Draco Malfoy, whom he wants nothing to do with in real life. He takes it upon himself to investigate an author that writes details that seem to be a bit too close for comfort, but in the meantime, he just needs to get through this new case at work. When Malfoy is assigned as his temporary consulting partner, he finds himself at a loss as he struggles to come to terms with the fact that perhaps, there's something there after all."The storylines themselves were fictional, but the writing – gods, it seemed like someone had split him open and poured him onto paper, exposed and imperfect, scooping up all his flaws and idiosyncrasies and phrasing him into something lovely. Loveable. Loved."inspired by 2/9/21 prompt - 'breaking the fourth wall'
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 12
Kudos: 16
Collections: February 2021





	1. 1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> welcome!  
> this is a WIP, based on a drarrymicrofic prompt that quickly got out of hand, haha.  
> i've got about 3 chapters written already, and will be working to finish this up with weekly updates.  
> i'm also looking for an alpha or beta reader, so feel free to reach out if you'd be interested! :)
> 
> title and lyrics from "sinking ship" by wild child
> 
> I am not JK Rowling and do not own anything related to Harry Potter.

[](https://imgbb.com/)  
  


> _See the rising tide_ _  
> Know it's only a matter of time_

Harry was… in a pickle, to say the least.

He huffed out a breath against his palms, fingers massaging his dry, bloodshot eyes. His hands dropped gracelessly from his face, head straining over his shoulder to try and make out the time. Though, judging by the faint grey light streaming in from the window beside him, he assumed it was now well past _late_ and had become _early._ The strange cuckoo clock hanging on the wall behind him, a gift painstakingly carved by the hand of one Arthur Weasley ( _“The muggles call it a Kooky Clock!”_ ) confirmed his suspicions; just as he spotted the time, the hands (shaped like _hands,_ for some reason unbeknownst to him _)_ clicked into place of a perfect 12 and 5. A misshapen bird-like figure popped out from behind the tiny wooden door with a noise somewhere between a chirp and a scream, announcing the joyous occasion of 5 AM. With a groan, he slammed his laptop shut and hastily shoved it beneath one of the mismatched pillows adorning the worn sofa that he’d been staked out on for the past six hours.

It had all begun innocently enough at Luna and Ginny’s housewarming party. Everyone was a few drinks in, flushed and happy, laughing uproariously over tale after tale from Neville’s internship in the Amazon, where he was tasked with searching for rare magical herbs in, literally, the unlikeliest of places. Neville, quite typically, had suffered many mishaps during his time abroad, and through his drunken storytelling he had singlehandedly convinced Harry that he would _never_ travel to that particular forest. As the laughter quieted down, and the fire became more coal than flame, Luna surprised everyone by asking if they’d ever “googled” themselves.

Though Harry and Hermione had been raised by Muggles, and thus, were far more comfortable with using the internet than their friends, they both had to admit that the thought had never occurred to them. Upon this realization, Ginny stood quickly, the barest hint of a sway to her balance, before chuckling to herself and running off towards their new bedroom. She returned from the hallway, socks shuffling with the faintest _swish-swish_ against the bright wood floors, a laptop in her hands, her pint of beer perched precariously on top. He saw Hermione swallow down a cringe and couldn’t help but catch Ron’s eye and snicker quietly. Ginny plopped on the large floor pillow directly across from him, setting her beer and laptop on the tiled coffee table, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear, before looking at Harry with a direct challenge in her gaze.

“You’ll go first, won’t you Harry?” Ginny smirked at him as she opened her laptop, fans whirring as it started up, the background casting an unearthly blue glow against her freckled face.

“Erm. Sure,” he’d agreed halfheartedly, shrugging. Her fingers were already clacking loudly upon the keyboard, anyways, typing away into the search engine. She would have done it regardless, so he figured that this way, at least he’d avoid any unnecessary ribbing that would’ve come upon his refusal. A few clicks later, everyone waited eagerly to hear her results, hunching closer to the coffee table subconsciously.

But a few clicks of the mouse later, and the silence was dragging on. Harry waited patiently, but became unspeakably nervous as he noticed that Ginny’s face was doing something weird. She pursed her lips, brows furrowed, and began blushing, cheeks bright red. Hermione finally slid haphazardly off the couch, and kneeled behind her, eyes flickering quickly across the screen, before slapping her hand over her mouth to contain a peal of laughter. Harry’s stomach dropped.

He scrambled across the coffee table, heedless of the glasses of drink spread out, and collapsed on the ground, shouldering Ginny and Hermione aside. What he found on the screen before him, he couldn’t have ever predicted. At first glance, it appeared innocent enough, just pages and pages of text, much like many other web sites he’d frequented over the years. But as he began to read, he realized.

Someone was writing about him. And it wasn’t just that, but they were writing about him in _intimate_ detail. Fictional detail, but _detail_ nonetheless. And the Harry mapped out in the story in front of him was apparently in a bit of a situation himself, as the author described him being bound to a four-poster, _begging_. The more he read, the worse it got. Because the person the author had decided to pair him with in this little scenario? Draco Malfoy.

“Oh no. _Oh no._ No. That’s not- this is – I’m not- _No!_ ” Harry reached forward and clicked the little ‘x’ to close the browser, before slamming the laptop shut. He grabbed a beer at random from the table and drained it immediately, flushing furiously, refusing to meet anybody’s eyes. Meanwhile, Ginny appeared to have recovered from her shock, as her and Hermione laughed riotously, collapsing against each other on the floor beside him. Ron, bless him, looked to Harry with a confused expression on his face.

“What’s that about, mate?”

But he couldn’t even begin to form the words to describe what he’d just seen and read. He just shook his head, mouth agape, as he gave Ron the signal to not speak of this. _Ever_. He glared balefully at his so-called friends, and conversation eventually started back up around the room, Ron shrugging at him before turning back to Neville to hear about a fish that could apparently _swim up your pee_. Harry shivered slightly at the thought, and did his best to participate, but quickly decided on making his exit a half hour later, bidding his friends goodbye as he stepped through the Floo to Grimmauld Place.

Upon his arrival, there was a good amount of pacing and hair tugging; he finally relented and gave in to his impulse to investigate this himself, throwing his jumper across the room before dropping down to lay unceremoniously on his couch, laptop perched on his belly. And, good Merlin, was there _a lot_ to investigate. Apparently, there was a whole host of witches and wizards in the world who had decided to write about him – and there were so many different stories they had decided to tell. Some of them had him rather emotional in the aftermath, choosing to write about him dealing with the many deaths during the war and the subsequent guilt that still was insidiously clinging. There were complex mysteries, featuring him and an Auror partner tracking down insane criminal conspiracies that, strangely enough, really captured what it was like on the beat in his day-to-day job. But then. There was the sex.

And, there was a lot of it, it seemed. With many of his friends- Ginny, Hermione, _Charlie_ \- basically anyone and everyone. But what was most alarming was the sheer level of content devoted to him and _Malfoy_ of all people.

Harry laughed ruefully to himself, the discordant sound ringing loudly in his silent, darkened sitting room. He felt like he was going _crazy._ But he couldn’t stop himself as he clicked the back button, and opened yet another story, trying, and failing to figure out just _where_ all this was coming from. He pondered briefly if one or more of his past flings had decided to put these stories up on the internet in some ill-conceived plot to get back at him for his refusal to commit, but Harry quickly dismissed the idea. While some of the descriptions of his character and behavior were semi-accurate, most of them were not. And even those scenarios he could see himself in had no basis in anything that had _actually_ _happened_ in reality. Not to mention, if anyone had wanted to slander him, they could have just taken their story directly to the Daily Prophet and wiped their hands clean, revenge plot complete. No, this was something else entirely.

And so, he read. He read until his eyes were straining, and the fire had died down, the sounds of the world awakening filtering through the familiar muffled buzzing in his ears that always appeared when he was most ~~obsessive~~ _focused_.

He had finally found an author’s work that struck him as startlingly accurate, written by someone who went by the penname of Ladon. Upon reading the first one in its entirety (seriously, who had time to write 10,000 words based solely on the idea of him owning a bakery?), he clicked through to their author’s page, and quickly tasked himself with reading their entire published works. The description of his hands, his hair, his reckless behavior, and quick jump to anger; now _this author,_ well, it seemed they could be someone he knew, or at least had interacted with on a semi-regular basis, unlike some of the others out there.

The storylines themselves were fictional, but the _writing_ – gods, it seemed like someone had split him open and poured him onto paper, exposed and imperfect, scooping up all his flaws and idiosyncrasies and phrasing him into something lovely. Loveable. _Loved._ He so wished it were true, no matter the fact that the author always paired him with Draco.

He shook his head. No, _Malfoy_ , not Draco.

These stories were falsehoods, and he’d do well to remember it, lest he find himself unable to meet _Malfoy’s_ eyes in the Atrium on Monday morning.

But the way they were described, well. He couldn’t quite get it out of his head. They were written as passion and flame, walking the fine line between love and hate. Filled with such gumption that they were quick to fists and carefully cutting words, meant to be sharp, slicing their soft into ribbons. But the author had seen something there, created something, and twisted it, showing a marvelous descent into a shift of perspective. In the last story, they had been Auror partners, holed up in a safehouse, fraught with tension and undeniable chemistry. A swinging of the pendulum, and that anger turned bright, full of an entirely different sort of passion.

Swallowing down a lump in his throat, Harry found himself _wanting_.

And wanting was dangerous. It was daft to want things, or people, that were purely only attractive to him in written fantasies.

He scuffed his hands harshly against his face yet again, pushing those thoughts away forcibly, before standing up and stumbling to his messy bedroom, back and legs stiff from the long hours spent in an awkward position on his couch. He tugged his clothes off mindlessly, before collapsing face-first against his pillows, asleep before he even had the chance to tug his blankets up around him.

He dreamt of darkness pulling him under an immeasurable tide, pleading with him wordlessly to surrender, their whispers of inevitability and pewter caressing his skin.


	2. 2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> enjoy :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, I am not JK Rowling and do not own Harry Potter.

[](https://imgbb.com/)

> _If it's cold in the water_
> 
> _Am I better for it?_

Harry was late.

This was not particularly strange, as he was constantly fighting the clock, and to him, five minutes late was _on time_ ; but after the events of the weekend, he found himself off kilter, pushed and grappling close to the edge of his temper. He sighed, irritated with the constant rumination, but really, his lack of concentration today was entirely his fault.

_Well, not entirely,_ he thought to himself, face briefly scrunching up in frustration. _Luna and Ginny were to blame, as well._

He closed his eyes briefly, before pushing open the glass doors and slipping into the empty chair closest to him. He folded his hands across the table, trying to find some semblance of professional behavior, before looking down at the current file sitting in front of him. Robards, the Head Auror, was doing his typical aggressive rambling brief that had become routine to Harry, not even pausing in his speech to address the late arrival. Every Monday morning, the team of Aurors met in a large conference room, and Robards’ assistant, some mousy young lad who’d been hired straight out of Hogwarts, handed out the new case files for the week. If you were still currently working a case, you were expected to present an update on the ongoings and progress in your investigation, but if you were unassigned, as Harry found himself on this particular morning, you were given a new case file to review.

His fingers twitched slightly at the corner of the manila folder, desperately wishing for the ability to just open the damn thing and get on with his day. But he stopped himself, sighing again under his breath, as he tried to tune back into the spiel that was battering his eardrums incessantly. Robards was quite finicky, and Merlin help the Auror who steps outside of his briefing protocols. He did not need _that_ dressing down today, on top of everything else.

“Potter,” Robards barked suddenly. Harry drew his eyes up from where he was fiddling absently with his folder to meet his boss’ gaze, lips in a firm line. Harry nodded, acknowledging that he had his attention.

Robards nodded back sharply, before turning to look across the room.

“You and Malfoy will head up this next case file. I need my best to get ahead of this thing, before the media gets hold of it and decides to present another _lovely_ op piece regarding the department’s _‘inability to function properly.’_ ” He scoffed to himself, before continuing. “It’s your basic underground potion ring; smuggling, illegal products and ingredients, people dying from the subpar warehouse brewing protocols. You know the drill. Potter, you handle the interpersonal investigation, Malfoy will track down the potion ingredients and try to trace them back to the suppliers. If all goes well, we’ll bring down the ring and the suppliers in one fell swoop. Dismissed.”

Harry sat frozen, opening his mouth briefly before snapping it shut. He grabbed his case file and made a quick exit. Once he made it halfway down the hallway, he leaned back against the wall, head falling back helplessly, heart racing.

See, _this._ This is exactly why he should not have done what he did on Saturday night… and Sunday.

Of course, he had only used Malfoy as a ministry potion consultant a few handfuls of times over the years, so he really had no reason to expect that his new case would include him. He had, quite reasonably, assumed that he would at least get some space between what he had been deeming _The Discovery_ and having to work with the man.

They were… well, not cordial exactly, but they each held back behind a demeanor of icy professionalism when they were working together. Mostly, if they happened to be in the other’s orbit by chance, it seemed they both took to the tactic of sheer avoidance; when worst came to worst, however, it seemed that old habits die hard. They had devolved into a screaming match and _attempted_ fight as recently as last Christmas, when Luna had invited him to join in on the festivities with the group. _Attempted_ because they were forcibly held apart by their friends, before each stomping off to opposite corners of the room to glower at each other sullenly for the rest of the night.

If Harry was honest with himself, it wasn’t really _working_ with Malfoy that was the real problem here, though. It was _The Discovery._ And he hadn’t had enough time to really get his head on straight after spending practically the entire weekend binging on fictional stories involving him and their so-called _inevitable_ fall into bed, or a relationship, or both. He had attempted to convince himself that it was just a part of his own personal investigation of trying to _understand_ why people could possibly find any semblance of possibility between them, but the further he spiraled, the harder it was to resist the pull of it all.

He flushed, thinking back to a scene that was remarkably like their fight at Christmas. Only, in the story, they had both stormed outside and continued their confrontation. Which somehow resulted in some heated snogging. Which led to shagging each other right there in the alley. He groaned, covering his face, as he remembered how quickly his cock had sprung to attention during _that_ particular story.

He had staunchly refused to do anything about it, of course. He couldn’t bring himself to face the consequences of actually _liking_ the idea of kissing Malfoy, let alone shagging him. But after hours of ignoring his body’s persistence, even cutting himself off from reading any other stories online and deciding to make a curry from scratch for dinner, his self-control snapped. He had stalked up the stairs, jumped in the shower and brought himself off, much faster than the usual post-dinner wank. Definitely thinking about some other white-blonde bloke with a lithe, muscular body. _Not_ Malfoy.

“This is a fucking nightmare,” Harry mumbled, pushing himself off the wall to continue his walk down the hall, dread and anxiety fluttering low in his stomach. He just needed to stop thinking about it -at least, until this case was closed. He prayed to Merlin they would catch an early break and be able to wrap the file up by the end of the week. Malfoy, everything else aside, was brilliant at what he did. Harry hoped valiantly that he could do what he did best, and trace everything back, so they could just go in and arrest the criminals and Harry could return to his blissful ignorance of mercury eyes and fine-boned hands.

_Shit._

Harry paused just outside the door, fist raised to knock and announce himself. He cleared his throat and drew himself up to his full height, shoulders back with a confidence he _certainly_ didn’t feel. He gave two short raps on the door, before grasping the aged bronze knob and letting himself into Malfoy’s office. He stopped short just inside the threshold, eyes fixed and hand still on the doorknob, as he took in the current scene with rapidly growing trepidation.

Malfoy currently had his back to him, starchy white shirt rolled up to his elbows and stretched tight against his frame, bent over a worktable that was overflowing with different academic texts, cauldrons, test tubes and, weirdly, a sleek silver-toned laptop that was open to his right. Harry slowly took in his form, tracing the length of his legs, his trim hips, and _dear god_ , his _arse._

_Fuck_ , he amended.

He struggled to keep an obscenely inarticulate grunt silenced, biting his lip, as he shut the door behind him, holding onto the case file in his other hand for dear life.

Walking cautiously across the room towards Malfoy, he cocked his head to the side, trying to catch whatever notes were open on his screen to no avail. He squinted, but it was useless. Sighing, Harry made a mental note to schedule an appointment to make sure his eyesight wasn’t getting even _worse_ , god forbid.

“Hey, Malfoy, already got a jump on this one?” Harry brandished the case file in the air, gesturing it towards the laptop awkwardly.

Malfoy startled, and spun around to face him, casually placing himself between Harry’s line of sight to the laptop while removing a pair of wireless headphones from his ears. He leaned back against the table, crossing his forearms, before levelling him with a snide look.

“ _Merlin_ , Potter. Do you always just lurk behind people, or is that a particular talent you reserve for me alone?”

Harry rolled his eyes, unwilling to give rise to the jibe. They both knew that he was referring to sixth year, where Harry had spent much of his time between classes tailing him beneath the cover of his invisibility cloak. _For good reason_. Normally, he’d start an argument with Malfoy over such things, jumping at the chance to defend his actions and vilify him. But today? He just didn’t have it in him. He _accio_ ’d a small wooden stool, and sat upon it, sighing as he pinched the bridge of his nose. He just needed to get through this case, and then everything could go back to normal.

“Am I correct in assuming you’ve been notified of our new file? The smuggling ring?”

Realizing that he hadn’t looked at it for even a cursory review, he opened the folder in his lap, flipping through it quickly to absorb some basic details of the suspects and targeted potions. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Malfoy quickly shut down his laptop, closing the lid with a quiet _snick_. He grabbed a manila folder, identical to his own, aside from the obviously copious amounts of review he had already completed prior to Harry’s arrival. He thumbed the pages, pausing to lick his thumb and forefinger, as he looked for a particular page that was marked by a rumpled green sticky note.

Harry was entranced, shifting awkwardly in his seat and trying to avoid staring at Malfoy’s delicate hands as he read. His lips moved soundlessly as he reviewed his notes, tiny pink tongue darting out to wet his lips, before he looked up and caught his gaze. Harry had no idea what his face looked like but based on the confusion that briefly crossed Malfoy’s face, he’d bet that it wasn’t good. Clearing his throat again, feeling heat creep across his face and neck, he tried to lock down any stray thoughts and focus on the task at hand.

“So, erm, where would you like to start with this one? It looks like you’ve got a bunch of notes done already, so I’ll follow your lead.”

Malfoy just continued to stare at him, his eyes calculating and shrewd. A beat later, his mouth curled into faint smirk, as he tossed the file back on the table.

“Potter. You’re acting quite strange today,” considering his words, head tilted to the side, he added, “Well, stranger than usual, I should say. You haven’t drunk any unfamiliar potions, or happened upon any glowing pink clouds within the past, say 24 hours, have you?”

Harry glared at him, tawny face darkening quickly, brows pulled low. He clenched his jaw and avoided Malfoy’s direct gaze, looking somewhere behind him.

“No. Pretty sure I would remember something like that.”

Malfoy gave a dry chuckle, obviously amused. “Well, you _are_ quite unobservant. Can’t blame me for asking.” He raised a perfectly arched eyebrow and turned back to grab the case file again, humming under his breath. “Alright, so this Plummer guy is bad news. He’s one of the only wizards we’ve been able to tie directly to this operation – we’ve got some dubious evidence showing him making some shady deals in Knockturn, the frequency of which has increased recently. Looks like we’re mainly dealing with botched brews, versus potions intended to cause harm. Word is he’s been advertising to a few small shops, talking about a modified _Amortentia_ that he _claims_ is legal. But, we wouldn’t be here if it was, in fact, legal, now would we, Potter?”

Malfoy paused to take a breath, cutting off his lecture for a brief moment, before turning his eyes skyward in apparent exasperation before beginning to pace, expensive dragonhide shoes clicking against the tile with every step.

“Of course, what am I saying? You _were_ always pants at potions. The most important ingredient, that which actually triggers the dangerous side effect of a properly brewed _Amortentia,_ are the Ashwinder Eggs. Not illegal in themselves, but highly regulated, both due to their inherently volatile nature and the fact that they’re harvested from a magical creature.” He shot Harry a pointed look that implied that, surely, this is common knowledge. “You’d think anyone who is a friend to Granger would be aware of these facts, since she was one who proposed implementing more strict regulations regarding harvesting items that are, inherently, related to magical creatures.” He paused, arms dropping to his side as his wild gesticulating ceased, tucking a hand into his pocket.

Harry, uncomfortably aware of just how astute that observation was, managed a grimace, shifting his focus to his knees as he adjusted his perch upon the tiny stool, attempting to gain some semblance of composure.

Malfoy resumed his pacing, heedless of just how unnerved Harry was that he had pinpointed one of his weaknesses so _casually_ , as if discussing the weather.

“So, Potter, here’s what we do. I’ll be contacting some of these local shops in Knockturn and running the basic tracing to try and get my hands on a few vials of that potion. _You-_ ” he pointed at Harry “-will be using your Boy Wonder skills by interviewing your adoring public who have been confirmed to have _used_ said potion to try and get at it from that angle. All goes well, we’ll meet somewhere in the middle.”

Malfoy slapped the file closed, crossing his arms smugly, daring Harry to argue.

And for the second time in the span of 24 hours, he found that he didn’t have the energy to fight with him. He gave a short nod, breathing out a slow, steady huff, before standing and waving his hand vaguely to send the tiny stool back to wherever Malfoy kept it hidden away.

He turned to leave, before throwing a haphazard quip over his shoulder.

“Best get to it, then.”

Through the sliver still visible as the door slowly swung to a close, he barely caught the faint flicker of surprise on Malfoy’s face before he relaxed, edges softening imperceptibly.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! 
> 
> i'm on tumblr - come and say hi!  
> [wheezykat](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/wheezykat)


End file.
